


Guilt Trip

by AR18IS



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS
Genre: BDSM elements, Blood, Blow Jobs, Guilt and Angst, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Restraints, imagined but also possible scenario, resolved angst (kinda)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 01:45:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15132365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AR18IS/pseuds/AR18IS
Summary: Takes place after season 1





	Guilt Trip

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after season 1

When Revolver came to he tried moving his tingling arms. He was still dazed and it took him a while to realise they were bound at his arms and wrists, raised above his head.  
Spittle dropped from a gag in his mouth, some had stained his shirt. When he moved more drops fell onto the wooden floor between his knees. Trying to stand up he felt a sharp pain. His legs were bare, his thighs firmly tied to his ankles, keeping him in a kneeling position.  
He raised his head, wincing at the pain at the back of his neck where he had been struck. He tried focusing on his surroundings, tried to remember what had happened.  
_The Tower had failed._ Judging by the light shining through the room's panorama window it was early evening. The sun had already set.  
_His father was dead._ Through his dazed mind and eyes it was hard to make out details.  
_They had fled the city._ He suddenly recognised the room he was in. It was Spectre's.  
Confusion and panic gripped him.  
He tried pulling his hands free and calling out but the rope and gag wouldn't loosen and his throat was tight. Coughing and straining he barely managed to let out a hoarse, muffled groan.  
There was no reaction.  
  
Only when he eventually stopped straining and let his head fall again did the door open. The lights were switched on, blinding him.  
Spectre entered and circled him, eyeing him with cold hatred.  
"Let off some steam? Good. Now it's my turn."  
Exhausted Revolver couldn't keep his head steady, a confused and pleading whine was all he could manage.  
Spectre stopped behind him and ruffled his hair playfully, then took a fistful and yanked up his head into the blinding lights.  
"There you go. Look at me!"  
He blinked away tears of pain and fear but looking into Spectre's hate-filled eyes they welled up and soon steadily streamed down the side of his face. Spectre tightened his grip.  
"Ah, yes. That is a good look for you. Now tell me, Revolver, what shall I do with you?"  
He leaned down further so his lips were almost touching Revolver's ear.  
"What shall I do with a traitor like you?"  
He reached behind the other's head with his free hand to undo his gag, then let his head fall without warning. The gag landed in a puddle of spit.  
It had been him. Revolver remembered now. Understanding his situation he was now sobbing freely. While he coughed and licked his dry lips Spectre stepped away, circled him again and kicked away the gag. He took a few measured steps back, folded his arms and waited, keeping his eyes on him.  
  
Trembling and sobbing it took him a long time to calm himself enough to even try and talk. When he finally did Revolver's hoarse voice came out slurred.  
"I'm sorry."  
Hearing his own voice gave him strength. He tried again, clearer this time.  
"I'm sorry!"  
Revolver wanted to raise his head to look at his aide but couldn't. Moments passed until he could hear the rustling of fabric when Spectre shifted positions and unfolded his arms. When he spoke Spectre's voice was dangerously calm.  
"'Sorry'? You are 'sorry'? For what?"  
Before Revolver could answer he continued.  
"Are you 'sorry' you knew about Playmaker's identity? That you knew who he was all this time? Is that why you are 'sorry'?"  
He continued talking, slowly approaching him again. His measured steps echoed in Revolver's ears.  
"Are you 'sorry' you sacrificed so much for him?"  
Revolver could only look at his white shoes as they came into view. He said nothing. Spectre stopped and sighed.  
He put his hand on Revolver's head again. Revolver flinched at his touch but Spectre only petted his hair and untangled a few strands he had messed up earlier. When he spoke again his voice sounded different.  
"For not telling your father?"  
Revolver's eyes widened at the change in his voice. Spectre moved his hand down from his hair, grabbed his chin and made him look up. He was crying.  
"For not telling me?"  
  
Revolver stared into his eyes. The knot in his stomach tightened. He took a breath and was about to answer him when Spectre's face darkened, twisting into that face of hatred from before.  
Without warning he smashed his forehead into Revolver's nose, making him cry out. He gripped his chin tighter. Revolver's nosebleed was already staining his white sleeves. He didn't seem to notice.  
"Don't look at me like that!"  
Revolver pressed his eyes shut instantly. He felt his blood pooling in Spectre's hand where he held his chin.  
"Why didn't you tell me?"

Revolver's mind went back to that time.  
_He had wanted the best possible outcome. If he had only contacted them in time to negotiate. But that would have meant going against his father. Again. At this time there had just been no way for him to let Spectre know without forcing him to make a decision. Or had he been wrong about this?_  
Numbed by the feeling of guilt, loss and helplessness he opened his eyes again and looked up.  
He was expecting another blow but instead Spectre let go of his chin and knelt down while forcing a kiss on him.  
Saliva mixed with blood but again Spectre didn't seem to notice. Revolver found it hard to breathe but didn't dare to move his head. After what felt like an eternity Spectre moved his head away.  
He hugged Revolvers body tightly with a sigh and buried his face in his shoulder. Clinging onto him he dragged him down, the rope cutting into Revolver's wrists.    
"I love you."  
Spectre's muffled voice repeated his words into Revolver's shoulder while he took off his bloodstained jacket and opened his shirt. He lifted up Revolvers shirt to kiss his chest but it barely registered with Revolver through the pain in this arms.  
"I'm so sorry." Revolver could barely hear himself speak.  
  
Spectre came up to kiss him again, easing the stress on his arms. This time even with his face in hot pain having his tongue bit and sucked definitely registered. His nosebleed had stopped and he could feel himself getting aroused as Spectre continued to kiss him, his hot breath and saliva taking away the taste of blood, reminding him of the last time they had done it.  
_Before the Tower._  
_Before their defeat._  
_Before he had decided to keep their enemy's identity a secret._  
His mind blanked and he closed his eyes. He only wanted to feel now.  
He leaned into the kiss, felt Spectre smiling at his eagerness as he pushed against him, felt his hands on his body, felt himself getting hard.  
He wanted more. Inching forward while straining against the rope at both his arms and legs he found the other's knee and started grinding against it. His grunt was swallowed by their kiss.  
His movements were restricted and hurt but he was getting into it despite the pain, finding his rhythm. _No, there was something else, too._ _He strained more than he needed to, making sure there was a constant flow of pain now while he moved. Was that it? His way of dealing with this pain?_  
Just as the thought reached his conscience Spectre broke away and stood up. Without support Revolver was left panting, leaning his head against one raised arm to keep it steady.  
"You sure like having fun on your own. Not that I'm surprised."  
He opened his fly and took hold of the back of Revolver's head.  
"You know what to do."  
He did.  
Working down from the tip he soon took his full length into his mouth. Half guided by Spectre's hand and half on his own he soon had him breathing hard. His own pleasure could wait as long as the ropes still cut into him with each movement.  
Spectre was leaning into him now, panting, firmly holding his head.  
"Before I go," he rasped, "remember to let 'me' know, too."  
With this he pulled his head down fast, delivering a sensation of black and white flashes.  
  
Revolver blinked quickly to clear his vision. Focusing on an object close to him he found himself staring at a ceiling lamp in the dark, still breathing heavily, his pillow wet with tears.  
_The boat. The boat they had left the city on. The two of them were using it as a houseboat. So it had been a dream. Of course it had been. Revolver had already told him._  
He sat up and leaned against the head board, hugging his knees and wiping at his face with his sleeve.  
Spectre stirred next to him and rolled over. He switched on a light and sat up, covered them both with their blanket and put his arm around him. They were both used to this.  
For a long while they just sat in silence, the faint sound of the ocean calmed Revolver's mind as he thought about his dream.  
_"Remember to let 'me' know, too."_  
Even with their shared years in mind, this was embarrassing.  
_"You know what to do."_  
Revolver shifted to look at him.  
"Do you feel a bit better?"  
Hearing him talk after his dream was comforting. Revolver decided to go ahead. Awkwardly and avoiding eye contact he told him about his dream. Spectre listened without interruption, his eyes widening slowly at the end.  
"The way that felt in my dream, I almost wish it would come true."  
He looked at his face for a reaction and found Spectre eyeing him with bemused interest. Hit with a fresh wave of embarrassment he buried his face in his hands and groaned.  
"It must have felt really good then. It got you excited it seems."  
So Spectre had noticed. Revolver groaned again.  
Spectre moved to take his hands away, lifting his embarrassment with a kiss on the forehead.  
He got up.  
"This is a boat, there should be rope somewhere."  
  
  
  



End file.
